


Never Said It Was Easy

by pinkpompom



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Past Abuse, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpompom/pseuds/pinkpompom
Summary: Suddenly Martin didn't look so relaxed anymore, shifting his posture. He didn’t say a word, but the way he looked at her said more than she needed.“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Is that— I won’t ask, it’s okay, never mind.” Amanda scrambled to backtrack.Martin sighed. “I don’t want you bein’ afraid of me. You’re not—” the tension left his shoulders as he slumped over back into himself. “You’re not supposed to be afraid of us. You can ask questions, s’fine.”“Are you sure..?”“Go 'head, drummer girl, ask whatever you like.”Amanda learns a little more about the Rowdy 3's past, while Martin lets himself be a little vulnerable.





	Never Said It Was Easy

**Author's Note:**

> A little tenderness I had written a while ago and forgot to post.

A typically wild evening had wound down to something a bit quieter, with Amanda tending to the boys in the Rowdy crew like their personal stylist. Sitting by the fire, three of the four men took turns sitting on an up-turned milk crate while Amanda used the beauty products they’d stolen earlier to give them each makeovers.

 

"I can't remember the last time someone did my hair for me," Vogel chuckled. "Feels kinda nice."

 

Gripps nodded in agreement as he painted Vogel's nails. "Didn't really get to do much with your appearance before."

 

"Uh huh," Vogel looked backwards-up at Amanda. "Do you think you could make it like, a cute little bun?"

 

"Mmm, yeah I can do that I think." Amanda worked carefully, combing the knots from Vogel’s hair with a small brush, pulling back as she did so to tie it into a neat little top-knot. “There!”

 

Vogel looked at himself in the cracked hand mirror, tilting his head from side to side to admire the shimmering highlight on his cheeks, and how cute Amanda had managed to make his usually unruly hair look. “Yes!”

 

“Yeah? Is that a good ‘yes’?” Amanda laughed, running the comb through her own wild hair.

 

“Uh, yeah, you made me look cute.” Vogel handed the mirror to Gripps, standing up to throw his jacket back on. “See? No one does your hair in a cage."

 

"A cage?" Amanda looked confused, turning her gaze to Gripps to shed some light on the odd statement.

 

Instead, he turned away slightly, grabbed another beer from the case and took a long drink, clearly avoiding the question.

 

“Okay….” Amanda coughed, turning back to Cross as he took his seat in front of her.

 

  
/

 

  
“Hey.” Amanda smiled, taking a seat next to Martin on the busted couch. The worn out brown leather was littered with patches, rips, tears, discolouration, spray paint, and a set of mismatched back cushions. But it was here, and it was enough.

 

“Hey.” Martin sat reclined with his eyes closed, glasses low on his face, hands clasped behind his neck, and a burning cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth.

 

Amanda sipped her beer quietly beside him, enjoying the velvety softness of the night that had fallen a few hours ago. Martin had a way of easing her tension without saying a word, his presence just soothed her energy. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, she could never be sure.

 

"You have somethin' to ask me." He said without opening his eyes. Perceptive as he ever was, Martin pinched the cigarette between his lips and took a drag, turning his head to Amanda, feeling her more than listening.

 

"You have to chill out with that, it feels like I'm talking to a super hero or something." Amanda took a swig from her bottle as she found the words to start the conversation her brain was itching for.

 

Laughing, Martin sat up and finally opened his blue eyes enough to peer over his glasses and focus on her face. "So? Out with it."

 

Amanda cleared her throat. "Vogel said something earlier and it made me uh, well it brought up a question about you guys."

 

Martin gave a vague grunt prompting her to continue, taking a deep inhale of the smouldering cigarette that smoked between them, making even larger clouds of grey smoke fill the air around them.

 

"He said 'it beats being in a cage'. And I don't know what to make of that. Was he in a cage? Were you?"

 

Suddenly Martin didn't look so relaxed anymore, shifting his posture. He didn’t say a word, but the way he looked at her said more than she needed.

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Is that— I won’t ask, it’s okay, never mind.” Amanda scrambled to backtrack.

 

Martin sighed. “I don’t want you bein’ afraid of me. You’re not—” the tension left his shoulders as he slumped over back into himself. “You’re not supposed to be afraid of us. You can ask questions, s’fine.”

 

“Are you sure..?”

 

“Go 'head, drummer girl, ask whatever you like.”

 

“Well uh, I’ve never really… I mean, you really don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but I don’t know what happened to you guys.” Amanda folded her hands in her lap. “I wanna understand you better.”

 

“It’s fine. I just don’t want you feelin’ sorry for us,” Martin grumbled, smoke curling up around his head in thick plumes.

 

“I’m not trying to feel sorry for you, I just want to know you.” Amanda gave her best attempt at a reassuring smile, unsure if he could read her true feelings differently.

 

Sighing, Martin finished the cigarette and promptly lit another. “We were kept in cages for years. They…” He trailed off, not really wanting to discuss who ’they’ were. “Kept us away from each other." He folded his arms, hunching over into himself as he spoke. "They used us when they wanted, didn't care if it hurt or made us worse.”

 

"You..." Amanda grimaced at the thought. "I'm so sorry.”

 

Martin only sighed as he looked just past her. He always seemed to have so much going on in his head, and yet it was so hard to read him.

 

“I never got the impression you’d been hurt like that. Or, well, not from the others, anyway.” Amanda fumbled with her jacket zipper, trying to find the best words for this sort of thing. “Vogel always seems so…”

 

“He’s chatty ‘cause it’s easier that way, I think.” Martin offered her a cigarette, lighting it for her as she held it in her mouth. “Vogel was so quiet before, he was almost mute. Hardly ever said a word to ‘em, did as he was told to keep ‘em from hurtin’ him. He talked to us more after we got out, found his voice again. Think he honours his freedom.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“Gripps is still a bit quiet, but he’s creative and brave. Does what he likes, doesn’t pay mind to what anyone else says. And Cross, well,” Martin flexed his hands, clenching his fists as he thought. “He’s still hurtin’, though he’s better than he used to be. Think he finds it easier to take the hurt out on others, he’s always ready to go.”

 

Amanda was silent, unsure of how to respond. It felt so bizarre knowing the strong, tough, intimidating men she knew today had been reduced to cowering animals in cages. Hearing Martin reflect on it put things into a perspective she had trouble coming to terms with, but it started to make a little more sense. They were touched starved, deprived of affection or even normal social interaction from people other than each other. No wonder they moved like a pack, they had learned to only trust each other. Which put Amanda in a position she wasn’t sure how to feel about; they were vulnerable and trusting her, treating her like one of their own.

 

“You’re quiet,” Martin rumbled, suddenly tensing. “Knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

“No, wait!” Amanda hurriedly reached out, preventing Martin from getting up to leave. “I was just processing, that’s all. I— I don’t feel sorry for you, I respect you more. You’ve worked hard for your freedom, you’re not owned by anyone or anything.”

 

Martin grunted, not really offering up much about his feelings, cigarette dangling from his lip.

 

“But what about you? Are you, uh,” Amanda paused. “okay now?”

 

He pinched his nose under his glasses, looking at the ground. “I’ve told you about it before, I manage. But I’m still not used to others touchin’ me. Or even talkin’ like this.” He gestured between them.

 

“I know. I mean, I don’t know how that feels, but… you trust me enough to have sex with me, to let me touch you then.” Amanda exhaled a small cloud of smoke, twirling the burning cigarette in her fingers. “I’m never sure what that means, I worry I’ll do something wrong.”

 

“You don’t.”

 

“But I might.”

 

“You won’t.”

 

“Are you sure?” It was Amanda’s turn to sigh, finishing off her cigarette with a few short drags before she said what she was really worrying about. “Is sex different? Am I allowed to touch you like that but not like this?” She grazed his hand, placing her fingers so they fit between his.

 

As she expected, she felt Martin shift uncomfortably.

 

“Please tell me what… what I can do, how I can fix this.” Amanda removed her hand, feeling guilty for causing him so much discomfort.

 

“Don’t have an answer for that yet.” Martin took her hand in his own, bringing it to his face as he spoke, placing it along his cheek. He spoke softer, leaning into the warmth of her palm. “But it’s gotten better. I’m better than I used to be. You just gotta… stay here. The more you do this, the easier it gets.”

 

Amanda’s heart leapt, her arm buzzing with static as her thumb grazed over the roughness of his beard. “Y-yeah?” was about all she could manage.

 

“M’yeah.”

 

Amanda was said nothing for a while, just taking in the tenderness of his gesture, taking note of every scar and line across Martin’s face, feeling the way he pressed into her touch. It was amazing how he seemed to melt like this around her, this softness hidden under layers of leather and scars, guarded by a bat and a howl. She leaned into his side, pressing a small kiss along his jaw, enjoying the way his eyes slid shut.

 

“You know, I still can’t wrap my head around how strong you have to be to do all of this.” She let her hand fall, leaving it to rest on his lap.

 

“All of what?”

 

“It just seems like you take care of everyone else. That can’t be easy.”

 

Tilting his head back, Martin took a moment to look at the stars. “They’re my brothers. We’re a family. I don’t think about it, we just want to be together.”

 

Amanda couldn’t help but tear up a little, wanting to tell him how thankful she was for them, for being a part of their crazy family, for helping her and protecting her and understanding her. “Fuck…”

 

Martin twitched, feeling her tears before he saw them. “Don’t— don’t…” He placed a hand on her knee, unsure of what to do in these situations. “I didn’t want you worryin’ about any of this.”

 

“I’m not, I’m just,” Amanda sniffed, roughly wiping at her face with her sleeve. “I’m thankful to be a part of all of this. None of you had to do anything for me, and yet you keep me around.”

 

“The boys love you, y’know.” Martin squeezed her knee. “We love you, having you here.”

 

Amanda’s face turned pink, ducking her head to hide it under her hair. “Thanks… I’m really, really happy here. I love you guys, too.”

 

Martin just smiled, adjusting his glasses before he stood up and offered his hand to her. “We should get to sleep, it’s late.”

 

“I don’t even know what time it is. I haven’t known in a long time…”

 

“Feels good, don’t it?”


End file.
